


After The Fire

by super_sad_instrumental



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Gen, Gotham, Gotham City Police Department, post-TDKR
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-11 09:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2062410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/super_sad_instrumental/pseuds/super_sad_instrumental
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(A post-TDKR story, mostly from Barbara's POV.)</p><p>It’s been a year since Bane’s rule over Gotham came to an end when Batman sacrificed everything to save the city and its people from destruction. The city endured but at what cost? With new even more vicious crime lords gradually turning the city into their own personal playground, and system-hating anarchists believing to follow in Bane's footsteps, it might not be the best time for Barbara Gordon to return to the city she grew up in, at least according to the soon-to-be retired Commissioner Gordon. Barbara herself begs to differ: In the ever-growing corruption she sees a chance to finally make a difference in the world, but soon learns not all wounds can be healed and not all battles can be won – at least not alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_**PROLOGUE** _

_Soon after the lights finally went out after days of using the last of the emergency regenerators’ power, all hell broke loose. All cell block door locks were electrical and without power, useless. Dr Arkham had however ordered to re-enforce the most important exists with manual locks and barricades, with extreme measures taken in Intensive Treatment due to the most dangerous and erratic patients being held there._

_Jeremiah Arkham was not a cruel man but he was a realist. Barricading the doors so that no one could get out – or in for that matter – hadn’t been an easy decision but a necessary one. He did value the lives of his staff members far more than some of the inmates, especially the ones on Intensive Treatment who were beyond helping. At a time like this, he’d admit it: some people just couldn’t be cured of their sickness. However, not all of his staff agreed with him._

_“You can’t just let them starve! We have a responsibility as – “_

_“We?” Jeremiah Arkham said as if he couldn’t believe the nerve of this intern. She was beyond lucky, getting to intern in_ his _Asylum, and she had the nerve to march into his office without even having the decency to knock – he was aware there was a crisis in the whole city but that did not give one permission to forget simple etiquette – and question his decisions as the head of Arkham!_

_“Y-yes,” the young woman said, lowering her high-pitched voice slightly and trying to be more polite. Jeremiah appreciated the effort but it was far too late for apologies. This wasn’t the first strike on Quinzell’s record of being too “straight-forward”, though the intern herself claimed she hadn’t provoked any particular inmate on purpose – which was a complete lie. From her interview tapes it could be heard very clearly that she didn’t exactly have a hard time stepping on thin ice. Ambitious, yes, but not very wise of her, especially concerning the patient in discussion. Even the thought of 4479 made him sick these days._

_“We are all in this together, whether you like it or not, Dr. Arkham,” she said crossing her arms, putting emphasis on his title. “The patients included.”_

_Jeremiah sighed deeply and corrected his glasses over his once-broken nose – an incident with a certain_ patient _, as it happens. Standing up from his office chair, he leaned against the antique wooden table heavy-hearted._

_“Miss Quinzell,” he began slowly. “I’d like to remind you of your position. You are an intern at my Asylum – “ She tried to cut in but he simply raised a single finger at her while gritting his teeth together. Even a patient man like him had his boundaries. “ – and while I appreciate your ethical perspective to the matter at hand, I would kindly ask you to look around you.”_

_His words seemed to confuse her, and she simply turned her head around the room. The dim evening light shone behind the thin red curtains, keeping the third person in the room, Arkham’s head of Psychiatry, in the shadows. The tall bald man looked at her through his bottle bottom glasses, and Jeremiah saw the shivers he sent down the poor intern’s spine. Hugo had that affect on people, inmates and staff members alike. He slowly closed the door and Miss Quinzell turned away, her blue eyes full of horror._

_“That is what happens when we don’t_ prioritize _, Miss Quinzell,” Jeremiah said with a stern voice. He didn’t want to frighten the poor girl with dead bodies and blood stains but it wasn’t like this was his first crisis with a few bloodstains in the Asylum. It was hers, however, but wouldn’t be her last if she meant on surviving._

_He started to wonder if any of them would._

_There was a rapid knock on the door that spooked Miss Quinzell. Before Jeremiah could call them in, a nurse rushed inside, and closed the door behind him, out of breath and blood running on his forehead. At least he knocked, Jeremiah thought to himself._

_“Dr. Arkham, there’s –“ he panted. “There was – a breach – “_

_"Where?” Hugo said in his low, calm voice. The nurse looked at him with wary eyes and swallowed hard._

_“The outer gate.”_

_"Someone’s tryna break out?” Quinzell blurted out, her usually well-hidden east coast drawl coming through. No doubt she tried to avoid speaking with it to be taken more seriously. The nurse shook his head, letting out a shaky breath. Jeremiah gave Hugo a look and couldn’t see the man’s eyes through his glasses that reflected the little light his office had. While the generators had still been running, they had been able to be up-to-date with what was happening in Gotham and the last thing Jeremiah had seen on the tv screen was the man in the mask. Not the first one in Gotham, and not the last, Jeremiah mused to himself. The man looked as if he could’ve as well escaped from his Asylum, though he wondered if they had the means to restrain someone as big as him. He wondered, because the information might actually be useful now._

_“How many?” Hugo asked._

_“No, it’s not – it’s not that,” the intern shook his head again and rubbed his temples nervously. “There are_ tanks _and they have all the guns but they – they aren’t advancing, they aren’t coming in.”_

_“It’s because they don’t want to,” Jeremiah stated quietly and absent-mindedly rubbed his stubbled chin. He preferred his face clean-shaven but that wasn’t actually a priority at the moment._

_“Can’t say I blame them,” Quinzell huffed just loud enough for everyone to hear. Ignoring her, Hugo advanced into opening the door again and said:_

_“They are waiting.”_

_Jeremiah simply nodded, more to himself than anyone else. He was the head of Arkham, after all, and as such it was his duty to do whatever was necessary to keep his Asylum standing. He didn’t know what the mercenaries wanted from him or the Asylum, since they had kept away this long and refused to take over by force – which they had done with every other even mildly important institution in the city – but he was going to find out no matter what. No one, not even someone who had basically brought the city to its knees in just under a week, threatened his Asylum and got away with it. Straightening his white jacket and correcting his glasses, Jeremiah walked towards the door and before exciting his office, he leaned closer to Hugo and said quietly:_

_“Don’t let her out of your sight.”_

_Hugo shifted his small, hawk-like eyes towards the brunette intern who looked frustrated at not fully understanding what was going on. He obviously didn’t appreciate being treated like a babysitter but Jeremiah had no choice. Quinzell might have been just an intern but he didn’t trust her to do as she was told. Not after the incident. He wrinkled his nose at the memory._

_Hugo simply nodded at his request and Jeremiah left with the nurse. He had an Asylum to defend._

_As Jeremiah stepped outside, he felt a cold evening breeze on his bare neck and shivered slightly. it was only the end of summer but Gotham had never been one of the warmest coast cities in the US. There was an especially harsh winter coming, he could feel it. He looked over the courtyard, all the way to the outer brick wall. The nurse had told the truth: there were several tanks lined up behind the gate that they had opened by force but none of the mercenaries had stepped over to the Asylum’s territory. Looking at the nurse – who had apparently had the time to snatch himself a coat somewhere, how very thoughtful of him – the head of Arkham brushed his dark hair and started gradually advancing towards the invaders of Gotham, with the nurse on his tail._

_“Dr. Arkham, a-are you sure –“_

_“You need to stay absolutely silent, Chou,” he told the nurse, who seemed pleasantly surprised Jeremiah had remembered his name. Jeremiah took his position seriously, and felt it was part of his job to know his employees and well, pretty much everything about them. “I’ll do the talking.”_

_“Of course, Dr. Arkham,” Chou said and quickened his pace to keep up with his employer’s much longer legs._  

* * *

 

_"_ _They’re coming out,” Barsad notified their leader and while confidently flipping his gun over his right shoulder. “Only two of them, it would seem.”_

_“Ah, so the good Dr. Arkham is a pacifist after all,” spoke a slow, raspy voice through a mask. Barsad narrowed his cunning eyes only slightly. He trusted Bane with his whole life – after all, he owned the masked man a life dept, and had sworn throught the rest of his days fulfilling it – but it did bother his curious mind that the Arkham Asylum was a grey area in the grand plan at the moment. They had kept a close eye on Gotham for years now and he knew the madmen that the grim building in the heart of the Narrows kept inside. He also knew Bane was wise not to break out the inmates like in Blackgate: In here lied the worst of Gotham, and it wasn’t what Bane wanted for city. As he said himself, the worst is yet to come._ Uncontrollable _chaos was not what they wanted. So Barsad was more than wary of the situation: why Bane had come for the Asylum after all, and in person on top of all. It meant only one thing: there was something very special and crucial within the Asylum. Something – or someone. Barsad had been so desperate for information he had almost asked Bane himself but remember what had happened to the last man who had questioned their leader. The Fox, as was his name given to the young mercenary by Bane for his cunning and abilities, knew better than that._

_The two figures stopped in a good distance to them and Barsad smiled. The other one, a small Chinese man, seemed to regret ever waking up in the morning. But Jeremiah Arkham, as Barsak recognized from their research, looked confident with his neat professional clothing, slicked back raven-black hair and dark, un-blinking perceptive eyes looking at them through his glasses. However, Barsad was trained to notice the small changes in peoples’ behavior, and Dr. Arkham was nervous even though he did a quiet good job in hiding it. Not good enough, though._

_“So,” Arkham called out and Barsad knew Bane was smiling behind the mask. “Which one of you I can talk to about the position of_ my _Asylum in your new city order?”_

_“It is not your Asylum anymore, Dr. Arkham,” Bane said in peace holding his bullet vest in the dominating way he did, and stepped forward behind the mercenaries that had been blocking Arkham’s view. Barsad saw the immediate change in the man’s stance as he noticed their wise masked giant._

_“It belongs to the people of Gotham. However,” he raised his right hand as gesture of good will as he continued to walk slowly forward and stepped through the gate, making Arkham even more wary. “People often don’t know what’s best for them. Which is why_ I _allow the Asylum to continue to serve its current purpose to the people.”_

_Dr. Arkham seemed to digest Bane’s words as the giant of a man stopped only a few feet away from him. He corrected his glasses and swallowed, still unsure of his fate._

_“You are a wise man, not letting the inmates out run rampant on the streets.”_

_“I never said I wouldn’t”, Bane’s slow voice boomed over Arkham’s, whose eyes filled with sudden terror. “Everyone in the Asylum will serve their part in this new Gotham, Doctor Arkham. Some will serve in confinement,” Bane took a slow step forward. “Some amongst the people,” He placed his giant hand behind Dr. Arkham’s neck. The tall, yet much smaller man tried to squirm away as he suspected what was to come._

_“And some in death.”_

_After a loud crack, Barsad watched unblinking as the former head of Arkham fell to the cold hard ground, unmoving and eyes wide open, while his glasses broke at the contact. If Barsad didn’t know better, he would’ve thought Bane had shown Arkham mercy at giving him a quick death._

_“Good god,” the Chinese man quietly whimpered. The young mercenary smirked to himself slightly as he wondered if the man was shocked by Dr. Arkham’s head being now in a quite the unnatural position or the small pieces of glass stuck in his dead eyes._

_Bane straightened his back with a sigh and looked up at the Asylum, hands on his vest again like the leader he was. He didn’t look at the shivering nurse as he spoke to him, but his dominating voice couldn’t be ignored by anyone._

_“It seems I need a second opinion. Perhaps from another Doctor?”_

_Barsad chuckled silently, nodding to the men behind him, knowing there would be no take-over. He was slightly disappointed at himself that it took him this long to know what Bane wanted. Jeremiah Arkham was the first of many of Gotham’s corrupted to be sentenced by the people, but Bane wanted to share the power of speaking for them. Who better to judge than the judged?_

_“Do not fear, my friend,” Bane’s voice turned into a light, almost cheery tone as he spoke to the man beside him. “You shall take us to this Doctor._ Then _you may fear.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A story I started in this year's Camp Nanowrimo but couldn't finish - however, I did manage to write at least some of it down already and will continue, slowly but steady (I hope). So let me know what you guys think (and sorry for my possible grammar mistakes!)
> 
> This is only the Prologue aaand it'll make sense (at some point) in the future chapters :3 The real story starts soon!


	2. Chapter 2

From all of the transportation options in a big city like Gotham, Barbara actually preferred to cycle. Sure, it took a while to get from the West Narrows to Gotham High and vice versa but a; she was tight on money, and getting her own car or using her dad’s was out of the question b; even though it had been almost a year since things had gotten back to normal - so to speak - the city was still under a lot reconstruction and therefor, the traffic jams were a nightmare where-ever you tried to go, and c; part b included public transport as well. Gotham wasn’t exactly a cycle-friendly city but Barbara had gotten used to avoiding people on a busy street and her reflexes had gotten better. A lot better, which was kind of ironic since she had been forced to take gymnastic since she was at pre-school.

“Sorry!” she yelped as she almost hit a smoker’s hand coming out of a taxi window while trying to cycle between the cars and the side walk. Not the hardest cycling enigma she had been forced to face, not by a milestone: this one time couple of months ago she had accidentally saved someone’s life.

It had been late evening at the edge of the Narrows, and Barbara was coming home from gym practice. Suddenly she had heard a loud scream. Not an unusual night when living on the poor side of town but not a nice one either. Another scream, and Barbara had become slightly worried, as any sane person would be – but also curious. Looking out for the screamer while cycling downhill on an alleyway, she had let her eyes leave the street and suddenly someone had run from an alleyway right in front of her! Hitting the person hard, her bike had stopped on the spot, and she herself had flown several feet forward though not landing as badly as she could have, thanks to her years of falling down gracefully from the balance beam. The person she had hit – a bald man, maybe in his mid-30’s – was unconscious, and carrying a pocket knife…with blood on it. She had panicked for just a second before noticing a figure leaning against the brick wall of the building behind which the man had appeared. A girl approximately her age, with light red hair, had leaned against the brick wall and looked at the man on the ground with mixed emotions. She had tears in her eyes, her t-shirt was ripped from the neckline and there was a small cut on her cheek. The girls had looked at each other, both in a shock.

Needless to say she had proceeded to call her dad. He hadn’t let her leave the house alone for the next 3 weeks, not even to see the only friend she had in town – who happened to be the person she had saved, and who she was cycling to meet at the very moment. Barbara didn’t really believe in fate or anything, but she didn’t exactly feel bad about being united with an old childhood friend while putting a mugging rapist behind bars.

Ironically, Ivy was there now too. Hopefully not in the same cell with the mugging rapist – she’d pity the rapist.

After leaving her trusty bright red bike outside the Blackgate Juvenile Detention Center – or “the Blackyard” as the inmates apparently called it, seeing as it wasn’t even a separate building from the main prison, and the visitors all went in from the same main doors – Barbara put her gym back over her shoulder and headed for the building she knew like the back of her hand.

Security check, she couldn’t take her bag with her, a guard asking if her dad knew she was in here, Barbara asking if her dad knew about the secret poker games going on between inmates and guards in the basement level, the guard becoming flustered, blah, blah, blah, same old, same old. When she finally entered the room full of round tables, with two people, an inmate and a visitor, sitting in each, she looked for Ivy but couldn’t see her. Barbara hoped her friend hadn’t got into that much trouble not be able to have visitors.

They sat her down to an empty table and while waiting for Ivy to show up, she looked around. Most of inmates at Blackyard were at their late teens like Ivy but there were a few exceptions. A girl who couldn’t be over 12, with thick brown hair and black fingernails, with a woman, probably in her early 30’s, sitting across from her. The woman tried to hold the girl’s hand, but she pulled it back, glaring at her visitor. She noticed Barbara staring and she looked away. A kid or not, she was scary as hell.

“Careful,” she heard a familiar voice say. “She isn’t here ‘cause of a simple theft.”

“Well, neither are you so I think I’ll survive,” Barbara teased and gave her friend a genuine smile as the tall, busty red head sat down. “Good to see you, Ivy.”

Pamela “Ivy” Isley returned the smile by grinning while chewing bubblegum. Her naturally light red, curly hair was gradually starting to grow back from when she had shaved it all off 2 months ago during a protest. Barbara hadn’t even recognized her friend when she was bald, topless and kicking a police officer in the gut while wearing a flower crown and having the words “ _mother nature will fuck you up_ ” written on her chest and stomach. In her orange prison jumpsuit, however, Ivy was more than recognizable, and she looked – really good. She was actually wearing mascara, though a little smudged, and had drawn in her thick eyebrows perfectly over her bright green eyes. She looked more like the Ivy Barbara knew and loved than in months.

“Good to see you too, Red,” Ivy popped her gum playfully. “How’s the Commish? What excuse did you use this time?”

“Gym practice, as usual,” Barbara sighed smiling. She didn’t exactly enjoy lying to her dad but he wouldn’t let her see the one person she was actually friends with since moving back to Gotham. Sure, she chatted with her friends in Starling City frequently but it wasn’t the same as having someone to talk to, face to face. Besides, Ivy was more fun, though reckless and unpredictable and regular inmate in Blackyard too, but they just clicked as friends. They always had, but moving away and Ivy’s difficult family situation – which was putting it mildly – made it impossible for them to see each other. But now it was different: they actually had a chance to regularly meet in person and Barbara wasn’t going to let prison bars stop her from doing just that. She knew her dad didn’t trust Ivy but then again, he didn’t trust anyone these days, not even the people he worked with – or Barbara, sometimes.

“So, what’s up?” Ivy asked cheerfully and leaned in. “Am I missing any important classes?”

“Besides all of them?” Barbara smirked. “Nah, nothing special happening, besides me trying to get a job for next summer. I was thinking about selling frozen yoghurt. How ‘bout you?”

“Well I’m more of an ice cream gal myself,” Ivy smirked and looked hesitant before continuing. “I started therapy yesterday.”

“Really?” Barbara asked in disbelief. “Voluntarily?”  The last time Ivy had mentioned therapy, she had also simultaneously used the phrases “useless shit” and “for crazy people”.

“Well, yes,” she said sounding falsely hurt and crossed her arms over, or more like under, her chest. “I decided to give therapy a chance. It’s a good way to get to know myself better and to –“

“Name and age, please?” Barbara interrupted glaring at her friend knowingly behind her glasses. Ivy could hold her grin for two seconds tops. She leaned in again and bit her lip playfully.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” she said, narrowing her eyes cunningly. “Works both ways, Red.”

“No it doesn’t, name and age?” she persisted and stopped ivy from trying to argue with her. “If you don’t tell me, I _will_ find out in other ways, you know I can. So?”

Her friend gave Barbara a wicked grin and the cheeks of her doll-like face turned bright pink, which made Barbara a bit confused. This wasn’t serious, was it? She had never seen Ivy like this…

“Doctor Harleen Quinzell, or soon to be, anyway. She’s doing her residency at Arkham and also doing Juve therapy sessions as a part of that. So in a way, I’m actually helping her too.”

“Wait, did you say –“

“Her friends call her Harley,” Ivy continued, ignoring her friend completely. “Yeah, she lets me call her Harley. We’re _friends_ …with benefits, of sorts.“ Suddenly Ivy noticed the look of shock on Barbara’s face. “Jeez, Red, she isn’t that old, what’s with the – “

“Arkham, Ivy?” Barbara spit out and leaned in, looking at her friend with an all too familiar scowl. Ivy raised her brow, sighing deeply. Over-protecting friend mode, activate. “You’re attending therapy in _Arkham_?”

“Well, she’s very busy there and since I’m due to be released next week, it’ll be easier for me to go there, so yes,” Ivy said rolling her eyes. “Seriously Red, I’m not _in_ Arkham! And it’s not like I’m gonna be sharing sessions with the Joker or –“

Ivy immediately regretted what she had said when Barbara fell silent. Her eyes shifted to her hands and she gritted her teeth together. An old memory with a piercing feeling, one she hadn’t felt in a long time, came rushing back to her mind. She told her dad she had been too young to remember anything, which was a lie of course. Ivy and her brother were one of the few people who knew that she did remember. In fact, hearing about her dad being dead and seeing her mom cry for days, and sitting in front of the tv with her brother, watching the man in the clown make-up giggle and cackle and kill – it was one of her earliest memories. She still saw nightmares about it sometimes. The laughter and the painted, cracked face with yellow teeth and blood on his lips, her mom crying and telling Barbara and her brother daddy wasn’t coming home. It still haunted her to this day, her brother too and she knew it, though they hadn’t discussed it in years. Sometimes it just occurred to her that _he_ was still actually out there, locked away but still…and she felt sick.

“Red, I’m sorry,” Ivy said in a small voice, swallowing hard. She looked anxious, wanting to explain herself but was clearly at a loss for words. How do you even say “ _I’m sorry I reminded you of childhood trauma that you didn’t tell anyone about and didn’t know how to deal with which is why it still affects you so strongly to this day_ ” to someone?

“It’s ok,” Barbara lied. “Anyway, even if she is just an intern, just be careful, ok? You don’t wanna get in trouble in there, too – _and_ you don’t wanna get _her_ in trouble, right?”

“Of course not,” Ivy said and relaxed again, crossing her legs. “I’m actually pretty serious about this – don’t give me that look, I am! We’ve been on an actual date!”

“Therapy doesn’t count as a date, Ivy.”

“Debatable,” Ivy shrugged and examined her nails. “As is the reason why you’re here.”

Their corner of the small fell silent as Barbara straightened her back slightly at her friend’s words. She moved her hands on her lap and Ivy narrowed her green eyes at her, smiling.

“You think I wouldn’t notice, _Red_?” she said a little louder, and the people close to them started to pay unwanted attention at their direction. “Huh? What have you been up to while I was here, locked away?”

“Ivy, I – “

“Don’t Ivy me, you lying bitch!” Ivy’s surprisingly low voice suddenly growled dangerously and Barbara felt shivers down her spine as her friend stood up. She was much taller than her, always had been and her presence was powerful and dominating in the small room. The seconds the guards noticed disturbance, Ivy reached out to her across the table and grabbed the thick fabric of her green hoodie, pulling her closer and shaking her around with fury burning in her eyes. Barbara was more than confused, until Ivy started screaming.

“You cheating bitch! You slept with him, didn’t you?! I knew it, I knew I couldn’t trust you!”

“Help, guards!” Barbara yelled and her voice cracked and Ivy choked her, she was surprisingly strong when she wanted to be. Three guards ran into the room, two of which grabbed Ivy and one took hold of Barbara, pulling the girls apart. The fierce red-head was struggling against her captors, screaming and cursing like there was no tomorrow and was sure to capture everyone’s attention, including the creepy little murder-girl – more like _especially_ the creepy little murder-girl – and also the guard holding Barbara.

“Are you alright, miss?” the guard asked her after Ivy had stopped screaming, as Barbara leaned against him, her breath shaky. She was holding back tears, looking embarrassed mumbled:

“I – I don’t know what happened, she just – “ she swallowed hard and the guard – Wade if Barbara remembered correctly, as she always did – helped her stand up. “She knew I slept with…John and it’s all just – I’m sorry, it’s not –“

“No, don’t be, just breathe, ok?” Wade mumbled awkwardly, as a 30-something male who didn’t really care for teenage drama which was funny given where he worked the days.

“I- I need use the ladies’ room, if that’s ok,” she whimpered and the chubby taller man simply nodded and escorted her away. Barbara turned her head just in time to see Ivy being dragged away for good, and the smirk on her face. Barbara could read it all too easily.

_You owe me one, Red._

“The closest restroom is in the hall right over the other side of the –“

“I-isn’t there one here? I _really_ need to go now”, Barbara insisted as the guard walked her in the corridor away from the visitors’ room.

“Well, it’s – it’s not for public use, I can’t –“

“Please, I need to go _now_.”

“Miss, please – “

They were at the Detention Center doors that could be only opened with a guard’s ID.

“I’m pregnant and I need to throw up now,” Barbara blurted out in a hurry and stopped right where she was, looking at Wade straight in the eyes with desperation in her own. The chubby guard mumbled something inaudible and looked around nervously, before letting out a quick sigh in defeat.

“This way?” Barbara pointed to a nearby corridor and as the guard nodded she pretended to gag a bit and ran away – just where she needed to go.

“I should –“ he began but Barbara just waved her hand and quickly yelped: “I’ll be fine!” while leaving Wade the guard standing alone in the hallway.

“I’ll just – wait here, then.”

 _Finally_ , Barbara thought and smirked to herself. Around a corner, she slowed her pace and pulled the hoodie on, just in time for a security camera. Walking quickly and efficiently, she looked at her wrist watch – so out-dated, but means do – and counted. Coming to the end of the corridor and the closed door, just as the camera looked around, she entered the Blackyard security control room using the guards’ ID guard snatched from Wade, not thanks to her. Barbara would have to buy Ivy dinner once she'd get out, and throw in a special dessert just for the act she pulled on alone. Teenage drama with an added pregnancy was such a cliché but apparently worked like a charm.

The control room was empty, as always on Sundays, and especially now that one of the oldest guards in the main building had his 60th birthday celebration which began just 10 minutes ago – which would give her 5-10 minutes to work her magic. Probably less, though, if Wade came out looking for her. She needed to act quick. Sitting down behind one of the main computers, she pulled her phone out of her other combat boot and plugged it in the computer, quickly going through the expected security protocols. She concentrated as best as she could, but couldn’t help but laughing a bit. It had worked. She had actually managed to pull this off – well, just as long as she kept herself under the radar. She had learned those tricks while trying to hack the GCPD systems a couple of times before, only once with success. The other times she had somehow avoided being caught. Barbara Gordon was many things, but above all, pretty freaking lucky – _and_  breaking the law pretty seriously and if caught, would end up sharing a cell with Ivy or worse...but that was beside the point.

She used the guard’s ID number to access the security footage data. No one _should_ notice a thing as long as she avoided opening individual files, so it would look like just a standard check done by all the guards all the time. She quickly found the specific files she needed and, without opening them, pressed the screen to start the download. Just as she released her thumb from her phone, both her screen and the computer screens suddenly blacked out for a couple of seconds, making her heart skip a beat, before showing up again. Blood pumping loud in her ears, Barbara swallowed hard and considered stopping the download, just in case there was something… No. It was too late for backing out now.

The download soon finished, and after making sure it was safe to do so, she un-plucked her phone. Keeping the guard’s ID up in her sleeve, she carefully exited the room to the empty corridor and smiled at Wade who awkwardly and a bit annoyed returned the smile before quickly taking her back to the main corridor. She managed return his ID but bumping into him and dropping the small piece of plastic with his name and face in it on the ground, and apologizing while blushing and stuttering – all a part of the well-constructed act of a teenage girl in distress, might she say so herself. Wade the chubby guard flustered and picked up his ID, completely unaware it had ever been missing in the first place.

She thanked the guard and crossed her heart not to tell _anyone_ about them breaking the rules _just a little_ – and trying her best not to smirk while saying it – and checked out of Blackyard, taking her trusty gym pack with her. Thinking about Ivy, Barbara exited the building and sighed deeply as she saw, well, nothing because of the heavy rain storm that had broken outside. She could barely even make up the silhouette of her bike through the rain, let alone ride it home. Her glasses were already too foggy.

“Need a ride?”

Barbara felt the color leave her face as she turned around to see an all too familiar face looking down on her with narrowed eyes. Knowing she wouldn’t possibly be able to leave her home for a month or so, the red-headed teen made a face and tried to come up with words that would save her from almost an eternity of loneliness and misery - and hoped he wasn't here because of a security breach alert or anything alike.

“Hi, Jim,” was all she could muster up. James Gordon looked down on her daughter from behind his own foggy glasses with a raised brow and sighed, his grey-ish moustache fluttering.

“Get in the car," he shook his head and Barbara silently obeyed, secretly pleased with herself. _It had actually worked._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was sort of an introduction to nolan!verse Barbara Gordon and Pamela Isley. I always liked the idea of "realistic" Poison Ivy being an aggressice nature activist, which she is in any case, but without her powers - and to anyone wondering, I took the inspiration for Barbara and Ivy's friendship from the animated series "The Batman", cause I REALLY liked that series and how they did Batgirl in it.
> 
> Will they become the Batgirl and/or Oracle and Poison Ivy we know though, remains to be seen... Next chapter will explore Jim's and Barbara's relationship a bit more, and a familiar face appears!


	3. Chapter 3

James Gordon was getting old, losing his touch, not keeping up with his younger officers anymore. He was having trouble more and more with his eyesight. His memory was not what it used to be and he kept re-living old cases like they had just happened instead of focusing on active cases that troubled the GCPD at the very moment. He couldn’t run as fast as he used to, had trouble with his back and was on constant medication.

Bullshit. The only thing old about James Gordon was his trench coat he had gotten from his wife after his promotion to detective. He was growing older as much as the next person, there was nothing new about that – but he was not _old_ …even if he had a bald spot but that was a sensitive subject to him and people knew not to comment on it, save for Barbara who only used it against him when they were fighting.

And then there was the r-word: retirement. When the city hall had first approached him with a retirement plan he had almost thrown the official out of the goddamn window. It had been a really bad day for him…

First thing in the morning, right after taking Barbara to school, he got a call from the GCPD building, saying that someone broke into his office the night before. As Jim arrived at the station, they showed him the damage: someone had painted the walls of his office with red paint, writing phrases like “ _always trust the injustice_ ” and “ _voice of the people_ ” and drawing huge “A”s with a circle around them, trashing the whole place. They hadn’t stole anything, just misspelled the word “anarchy”. No doubt it was nothing but a few young hot-heads who still thought they lived in Bane’s Gotham.

Next thing he heard that day was that they had found an important witness dead in the sewers in the early morning, which meant visiting the morgue. Again. Jim absolutely hated the place, and not just because he didn’t exactly enjoy the company of the dead – he _hated_ the company of the new coroner: Edward Nashton, a cocky young man who knew too much for his own good, had a tongue like a viper and an ego the size of the Wayne tower. Jim had had to work with _and_ for people he absolutely had no respect for in the past, but Nashton was something else: he was, above anything else, extremely _annoying_.

So it hadn’t been exactly the best day for Jim to hear that everyone, including the city officials _and_ the mayor, thought he was too old for the job – or as they put it, they’d like to “respect” Jim by getting rid of him conveniently just in time for the anniversary of Batman’s sacrifice. Bastards thought _he_ thought he was still living in a war zone that was Bane’s Gotham, when he’d like nothing more than to just leave it behind him. On top of it all, later that day, he had caught Barbara skipping gym practice _again_ to see Pamela Isley, whom Gordon trusted less than some of his most corrupted co-workers. She was a bad seed, and not the kind of company he wanted his daughter to have. Pamela had been a sweet kid and that is how Barbara remembered her but unlike Jim, his daughter hadn’t seen the transformation of her friend. Bane’s Gotham had been the last straw after years of abuse from her family to make Pamela bitter of the world. Jim remembered she had always appreciated nature but at a later age had taken that appreciation to an extreme, no matter the cost. But Barbara was blind to all of that, and it Jim’s duty as a father to protect her. He felt bad for restricting her like this but he had no choice since she wouldn’t listen to common sense.

As they drove home in complete silence – save for Barbara worrying about her bike being stolen – Jim tried to find something positive about the day. He looked over to his daughter, her red hair in a messy ponytail, cleaning her glasses to her hoodie sleeve, muttering to herself his bald spot and her being old enough to make her own decisions, strong brows furrowed, small nose wrinkled and her bright blue eyes burning with emotion – he couldn’t help a small sad smile in the corner of his mouth. He wasn’t the only one getting older.

“I’m going back in there first thing tomorrow,” the red-headed teenager said while they were taking the stairs up the building to their apartment floor.

“No, you are not,” Jim Gordon sighed. “You’re grounded, remember.“

“To get my bike, Jim,” she huffed in response and before her father could argue against her, the elevator door opened, revealing a familiar face waiting on the other side. Jim Gordon had to correct his glasses to make sure he was seeing right.

“Blake?”

“Commissioner,” the dark-haired man nodded with a small smile and Jim was at a loss of words. He didn’t even remember how long it had been since he had seen John Blake, let alone talked to him, which he felt a bit guilty for.

“Is this…Barbara?” Blake said with a small laugh, looking at the teenager confused. She returned the confused look and nodded slightly, eyeing her father suspiciously. He looked so shocked at this encounter.

“Yes,” Jim finally let out. Of course, John had never met his family in person, and the only pictures he had seen were from many years ago, when Barbara had been just a little girl. In a way, Gordon felt a bit guilty about that. He would still trust John Blake with his life, and that could not be said about many people, and would’ve loved for the young man to meet his family when they were still…well, a family.

“ _So_ ,” Barbara said wary. “Could we maybe continue repeating each other’s names in the hallway?” John let out a small laugh and Jim couldn’t help but to smile as well.

“Barbara, this is John Blake,” Jim introduced the young man as they walked down the hallway to their apartment door, and Barbara’s eyes widened in recognition. “One of GCPD’s best and brightest, and one of the bravest men I’ve ever –“

“That’s – thank you, sir,” John stuttered, taking his hands out from his leather jacket’s pockets, and Barbara smirked as she saw the man blush and fluster at her father’s more-than-kind recommendations. “Though it’s former GCPD, these days. Nice to meet finally meet you, Barbara.”

“Likewise,” she replied as they arrived the door. Small awkward silence fell around them. John opened his mouth as if to say something but his thoughts seemed to escape him. Jim too. He wanted to say a million things but the sight of the young man only brought a faint, sad smile on his lips.

“You hungry, John?” Barbara suddenly asked boldly, calling the baffled man by his first name and pointed to the bag her dad was carrying. “Jim always orders too much Thai food for two people anyway and it’d be shame to throw away all this fried rice.”

“Oh no, I – “

“We insist,” Jim Gordon cut in, smiling at his daughter. “You _are_ hungry, I know. Old eating schedules die hard.”

John Blake sighed in defeat and helped the Gordons carry their bags inside the apartment – which looked exactly the same as it had a year ago. John wasn’t sure what to make of that.

* * *

 

“So _you’re_ the man Jim never shuts up about.”

“Barbara – “

“Seriously, he’s told me everything about last year – well, not _everything_ , I think but about all the things you did,” she insisted with a mouth full of the infamous fried rice. “Dude, you’re a hero.”

John looked as baffled as ever and let out a small awkward laugh at the teenage girl’s praising words.

“Well, thank you – but your dad’s the real hero here,” he said with a smile and looked at Jim. For a moment he considered if he could call him her father, seeing has she didn’t. But that was between the two, not John. “Without him there would be no police force left standing in Gotham.”

The Commissioner smiled but John noted his mind was miles away. Barbara seemed to think so as well. Maybe this hadn’t been the best time to visit an old friend after all, the Gordons clearly had some private things going on. John wasn’t sure anyway why he had come in the first place… Or he did know why, just wasn’t sure if it was wise. It just got a little lonely not having anyone to talk to who had gone through what they had, and who knew –

“You still work for the Wayne Foundation, John?” Jim suddenly asked, snapping John out of his trance.

“At the orphanage, yeah.”

“Wow, really?” Barbara said and dropped her fork at the plate. “That’s – really awesome. I mean, being a cop is important and all but the work the Manor does is priceless, honestly.”

“There were a lot of kids left with no one to look after them last year,” Jim voiced in. “Your heart’s in the right place, John.”

Barbara eagerly nodded in agreement and stuffed her mouth full of chicken. She couldn’t help but to look at the dark-haired man in awe. She was sitting next to John freaking Blake! It was pretty weird that she hadn’t met him before now actually, considering how her dad really respected and liked the man – which was rare in his line of work.

“Say John, do you to take summer workers at the Orphanage?” Jim Gordon suddenly asked and Barbara nearly chocked on her chicken. “Barbara has had trouble finding a job, and –“

“Thanks, Jim, I think I can handle that myself,” she gave her dad a harsh look, a bit embarrassed.

“Well, we _are_ always looking good people to help around,” John said carefully to Barbara. “You can just come by, if you want, and we’ll talk things through. Naturally we can’t pay a fortune but it’s not bad either.”

“Honestly, you don’t need to –“

“No, I mean it”, John said reassuringly. “I think you’d really like it there.”

Barbara couldn’t help but smile and thank John. Not a single teenager actually liked when their parents meddled with their lives like that but she was not angry about getting a job – pretty much the opposite: she’d meant every word she said about respecting the work the Wayne Foundation had done after Bane’s Gotham.

“Uh, Barbara, sweetie,” Jim Gordon said to his daughter. “It’s, uh, getting pretty late and, uhm – you – do you have homework or –“

“ _Yeah_ ,” the red-head smiled and cocked her eye brows while winking comically at her dad. “I’ll gladly leave the two of you to talk about _the good ol’ days_ or whatever.” She left the kitchen and gave the old friends a moment of privacy. A very silent and long moment.

“She’s got your strength, Jim,” John finally broke the silence and leaned against the table.

“And her mother’s stubbornness,” Jim Gordon laughed and shook his head, while John joined him:

“Actually I think that’s from you too.”

“God help me,” the older man chuckled.

The rain outside became much heavier and John considered leaving for a moment.

“How’s the station holding up?”

“Good,” Jim nodded sighing. “Good, we’re, uhm…holding up.”

“Hm-mm.”

Someone yelled briefly in the apartment above. A woman with a high-pitched voice. Both John and Jim smiled a bit.

“We lost a crucial witness in a very important investigation today.”

John shot his eyes at the older man and straightened his back warily.

“Why am I telling you?” Jim voiced out the other man’s thoughts and sighed, taking off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “I trust you, John, which is more than can be said about most of the people I work with. And while I completely understand and respect your choice of leaving the force, you were an excellent detective. Those kind of skills don’t just disappear.”

John suddenly realized how much older the Commissioner really looked.

“You want my help?”

“Frankly, I _need_ it,” he admitted.

John nodded, not saying anything. Jim Gordon put on his glasses again and said under his breath:

“What do you know about Black Mask?”

The name rang a bell for sure, no doubt about it. John took a long while before answering, trying to gather his thoughts right.

“What your average Gothamite does,” he sighed and Jim stood up as he spoke, going to the counter table and opening the top drawer. “He’s a drug lord, appeared a couple of months after Bane, no doubt using the poor state of the city to his advantage, and has since gained a lot of territory and allies. From what I’ve heard, his territory is getting bigger than any of the old mob families’ ever where.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Jim sighed as he sat back down, with an envelope in his hands, opening it. “Do you know how he got his name?”

From the envelope Jim put two pictures on the table, screenshots from a video footage. They were dark and gritty, but three figures could be made from them. All wore black skull-like masks, but the middle figure’s was the most detailed and it shined in the dim lighting. A pair of piercing eyes shot from the holes of the mask and John furrowed his brows. The man had broad shoulders and was taller than the two men next to him, and wore a sharp striped white suit with a black shirt and a white tie underneath, with a bloody crow bar in his black gloved hands. The two men next to him both had guns and were dressed in all black suits.

“I do now,” John cocked an eyebrow. “So the witness – “ he began but stopped before realizing he was getting ahead of himself. “You shouldn’t tell me this, Jim.”

“Because it’s illegal or because you don’t want me to?” the Commissioner asked with a small smile and ignored John’s pleads. He should’ve probably felt pride about that. “I know the risks I’m taking John, and I am willing to take them for you _and_ for this case. Now pay attention.”

“Yes, sir,” John smiled.

“The witness’ name was Milo Parker.” A third picture, a very detailed one, appeared next to the other two. John clenched his teeth together. He had seen a lot during Bane’s Gotham, but broken bloody bodies were something he had never gotten used to. Especially when they were young. The boy in the picture, or what was left of him, didn’t look much older than – Barbara. John didn’t voice out his thoughts for a reason.

“His father, Willian “Billy” Parker was a long-time heroin addict and a dealer himself, and according to Milo, had recently began working for Black Mask,” Jim explained. “He had apparently gotten on his bad side when he had tried to play more than one side.”

“Another drug lord?”

“Several. Some Milo knew of, old players, and some not. Black Mask had found out, and uh – it hadn’t ended up well for Billy. Soon after that, Milo contacted us. He said he didn’t know much, but had heard of a couple of big stashes hidden in the city. The thing is – it pains me to admit but that would’ve been the biggest lead we’ve had on the guy so far.” Jim swallowed hard. “However bad you think it is, John – it’s worse.”

Taking one of the pictures in his hands, Jim Gordon looked at the man in the mask, as if trying to find a clue that he just hadn’t seen yet.

“Well, he isn’t the first crime boss in Gotham to hide his true identity”, John said reassuringly. “And definitely not the first drug lord to wear a mask.”

“Who is locked for good and will never see the light of day again, as long as I have something to say about it”, Jim mumbled, and tightened his grip of the photograph paper from sheer disgust for the person in question – were he a person at all. “But Black Mask, he’s much smarter about hiding his trail. He has used various companies and fractions to cover up his illegal activities - “

“Such as?”

“Falcone Shipping, Sionis Steel, even the goddamn Gotham National Bank! The worst thing is, we haven’t been able to make a special connection with any of them. From what I’ve gathered, he’s got people everywhere, and is always not just one but ten steps ahead of us!”

“Everywhere?” John repeated and suddenly realized why Jim had come for him. “Guess the GCPD never got over the corruption.”

“Honestly – I never really expected it to,” Jim sighed and put down the papers. The tone in his voice made John wary. If Jim Gordon was starting to loose hope of a better tomorrow, things _were_ worse than he had thought. He looked at the picture of a broken young body again, feeling sorry for some reason.

“And Milo Parker?”

“Was found like that, floating in the sewers near the ACE Chemicals factory” Jim said, shaking his head slightly. “Beaten up and left to die. Missing four fingers on his right hand and 3 on his left, with a fractured lung and broken kneecaps. Died from blood loss.”

“Torture,” John simply stated, his voice low. “So Black Mask finds out the kid was going to tell the police about drug stashes and tortures him?” He let the picture fall back on the table and sighed deeply.

“Fits his style and the psych profile our guys worked up,” Jim said. 

“ _That’s_ good”, John tried to calm himself a bit. “It means he has habits, behavioral patterns. And you can follow patterns.” 

“Not without real suspects,” Jim argued. “So far we got at least two per a cover-up company.”

John looked at the one picture with a close-up to the black skull mask and piercing eyes.

“So what if it’s not just one guy?” he suggested, looking at Jim with a raised brow.

“Possible, and taken into consideration,” Jim said with a small smile. “But his identity is second-rate at this point. We need to get at least some evidence first. Milo would’ve been step forward but –“

He was cut off by an opening door that spooked the old Commissioner a bit, waking him from the brainstorm he’d just had. Barbara stepped out from her room with headphones on, nodding her head slightly to the music that John could barely hear. She looked up from her phone to the two men, confused.

“What’s with the deer in the headlights?” she joked and paced through the kitchen/living room to the door, glancing only slightly to the pictures on the table. John gathered them up quickly and put them back in the envelope. It was only when Barbara opened the outside door that Jim Gordon realized what was happening.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked hastily. Barbara was wearing a hoodie and a leather jacket over it, and putting the hood on she pointed outside.

“It stopped raining like 5 minutes ago,” she explained and John looked out of the window. They had been so focused on the case he hadn’t even noticed the silence outside. “I’m gonna go get my bike.”

“No,” Jim nearly laughed. “You are _not_.”

“Uhm, yes I am?” she argued with a tight laugh.

“You’re grounded, remember?”

“I got school, remember?”

“Yes, and?” Jim said, starting to loose his patience a bit.

“ _And_ I need my bike,” she spoke slowly and with emphasis, mocking Jim. “I ride it _to_ school. You expect me to walk?”

“I’ll take you.”

She gave her dad a stone-cold stare.

“On the other hand, walking sounds great!” Quick on her feet, she turned around and nearly run into her room.

“It was nice meeting you, John”, she passive-aggressively spit out – the young man knew her attitude was directed towards her farther, not him – and slammed the door shut. Jim let out a sigh, rubbing his temples anxiously. It was only then that he remembered John was still present.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” the tired Commissioner said quietly.

“No, it’s ok,” he chuckled and stood up. “We got a few kids turning 18 soon at the Manor, and believe me, they’re a lot worse than her. Which reminds me – “

“You have to get back,” Jim finished his sentence and nodded. He tried to give John the envelope, in hopes of him thinking about joining the investigation but John politely declined. Frankly, he had no other choice – unless he was going to tell Jim the truth. To be honest he had been thinking about doing so the whole evening, ever since he decided to visit his old Commissioner…but he couldn’t do that to Jim. Even though the man absolutely detested the idea of retirement, he deserved it more than anyone else. He deserved peace of mind and he would have it too. John would make sure of that.

As the young man stepped out of the building, it started raining again and he cursed himself a bit for not bringing an umbrella. Pulling the zipper on his jacket all the way up, he hunched his back and put his hands in the pockets of the jacket tightly before stepping in a puddle. Behind him a faint noise of something hitting metal could be heard through the rain. From the corner of his eye he saw someone run through an alleyway on quick feet, barely unseen. The rain soon covered any tracks the person might have left – but John didn’t need any. Glancing at the window of Jim’s apartment, he considered his choices. He could just let it go. It really was none of his business. Then again, neither was Black Mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since updating, though the chapter has been ready for a while... But I try to update as regularly as I can, since I have probably never been as invested in a story as I am now. My oh my the things I have already planned out...!
> 
> There will finally be some real action in the next chapter, I promise.


	4. Chapter 4

The GCPD building was an un-inviting place any time of the day, at least according to the people who worked there, but at night time it was actually pretty pleasant if you didn’t mind the darkness and occasionally flickering lights at the hallway – money was tight everywhere these days. There was no noise or snarky comments from your co-workers and if you had a mind that was more active during the night anyway, perfect for working. Therefor Barbara had to double-check that no one was working over-time at this particular night. It wasn’t even midnight yet, and as she sneaked in from a basement level window to the infirmary she was feeling extremely nervous. This was the second crime she was committing today but in retrospect, breaking and entering would probably be easier to explain that hacking a medium-level security system. Then again, she had hacked systems, interfaces, both high and low security, since she old enough to actually own a computer – but never had she committed a break-in, not alone at least, and the GCPD was on a whole other level than the ACE Chemical building downtown. Ivy would be so proud of her. 

 _Maybe I am spending too much time with her_ , she mused to herself and hushed the little voice inside her head that made her feel bad for sneaking out while grounded. Again. The voice sounded like her dad but with actual feelings. At least she had tried _not_ to sneak out and just walk out of the front door but alas, her dad didn’t trust her. How dare he.

The infirmary was dark, which was promising – no one worked in darkness, save for criminals. _You’re_ not _a criminal_ , she told herself yet again. Not all who commit crimes are criminals, right? _You’re only doing what’s necessary, what no one else is willing to do._

Barbara wondered if all criminal masterminds started their careers with a thought like that.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled out a small flashlight from the pocket of her trusty green hoodie and turned it on carefully, listening for any footsteps or other indications of life. When she heard nothing but the soft humming of air conditioning, Barbara braced herself mentally for the mission.

_Upstairs, past S.W.A.T, into the office, computer, out of the office, past S.W.A.T., downstairs, out of the window, and home._

Furrowing her brows, she corrected her glasses and took the first step – but someone took the second one for her. And another. And another.

“Are you kidding me - !” someone muttered in a close distance. Panicking, she shut off the flashlight and hid behind a curfew quickly, getting on her knees and covering her mouth. Lights were turned on in the infirmary and Barbara felt like she couldn’t breathe.

“I am _not_ some damn _pawn_ ,” a man said through gritted teeth and Barbara tried to recognize the speaker, if she could. His voice was vaguely familiar, with a slightly high, singing note to it. Annoying, Barbara thought. “Who does he think he is, bossing _me_ around! We’ll see who gets the last laugh in –“

“Hey!” another voice, much lower and raspy, called out, making Barbara jump a little. Another pair of footsteps as someone new entered the room. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“I’m not suppose to be where I work?” the first speaker snapped mockingly.

“No one works a Sunday night, Nashton.”

Nashton? She didn’t recognize the name.

“Well, Cash, apparently _I_ have to.” Aaron Cash, on the other hand, Barbara did recall. A big, grumpy man that had only recently begun working night shifts in the GCPD after getting fired from Arkham Asylum. She didn’t know why, his file hadn’t stated the details.

Ok, so she basically knew nearly everyone who worked in the GCPD and had learned their files by heart. It made her _extra-curricular activities_ a whole lot easier.

“Gordon gave me a call, he needs me to prep a particular body for tomorrow,” Nashton said. _Edward Nashton_ , she finally remembered. The new head of forensics that her dad hated…so why was he doing a favor for him?

“But don’t you worry, I’m not going to do that,” Nashton said and Barbara just raised a brow. “Gordon might be Commissioner still but even he can’t expect me to work a night shift when I don’t have one, _so_ –“ Barbara heard a suitcase being closed and footsteps again. “I shall be on my way shortly.”

“Well, s’all very nice,” said the person Barbara figured was a guard doing a nightshift. He shouldn’t be here for another 30 minutes, though, which made her wary. “But uh, I don’t know if you’ve noticed – but the Commish hates ya guts.”

“So it would seem.”

“And you expect me to believe he wanted _you_ –“

“– when he could have asked someone he _didn’t_ hate?” Nashton ended the sentence for the other man. “Well, the answer to that is quite simple, really: you don’t _tell_ a person you _like_ to do over-time or work at night, you _ask_ them nicely – which I suspect is the reason you’re here as well.”

Suddenly she understood why her dad didn’t like the man.

“Why _are_ you here, by the way?” he asked in a curious tone. “Your shift doesn’t start until midnight.”

“You creep me out, y’know that, Nashton? And that’s saying something,” the guard scoffed. “The silent alarm went off in the basement level. I was nearby so I checked in a little early.”

Barbara breathed in slowly and quietly to calm her breath. For a genius she was a complete idiot.

“Huh,” Nashton huffed. “Must have been just a lost little bird. Or maybe the _Batman_ is back.”

Barbara couldn’t help but smirk a little. The sarcasm was oozing out the Nashton’s mouth.

“Gotham’s Savior, the Dark Knight, Punisher of those who refuse to work over-time...”

“You think you’re real funny, don’t ya?” the grumpy guard muttered. “Get outta here, Nashton – before I wipe that stupid smirk right of ya face.”

Barbara heard him simply chuckle and walk away. Soon after that, the lights were turned off again and the guard seemed to leave as well. Once she was sure both were long gone, she finally had the courage to appear behind the curfew. Leaning against the counter, Barbara let out shallow breaths and pulled off her hood, wiping the sweat from the forehead. She glanced at the slightly open small window, furiously hoping that the guard was really as stupid as he sounded: that he hadn’t seen it _or_ her. Nashton, on the other hand – Barbara didn’t know what to think about him. Was he actually really clever or just thought he was? Either way, even if he had seen her or noticed the window, he had kept it to himself…

“Screw this,” Barbara whispered, pulled the hood over her head and went for the window. Just when she was about to climb up the chair, her eyes found a file on the table. A file that hadn’t been there before. It must’ve been left there by Nashton just now, probably something regarding the dead body he was talking about…or something else. Cursing her curiosity, Barbara quickly went for the file and opened it with gloved hands – she wouldn’t want to leave any fingerprints anywhere, now would she? Besides, she wasn’t there to steal anything per se, only to look. Right now, she was looking at a photo of a dark-haired teenage boy’s face and another of his dead body floating in dark green sewer water. Swallowing hard, she read the detailed description of his many injuries that caused his death.

Milo Parker, she mouthed the name. The boy her dad and John had discussed before, the Black Mask witness. Taking out her phone, she took photos of all the files for later inspection, just in case. Eavesdropping was a bad habit but the moment her dad had asked her to leave room, she knew he wasn’t just going to swap some old cop stories with John. Putting the file back on the table, wishing it was as if no one had ever touched it after Nashton left – and hoping he wasn’t as neurotic with stuff like this as he seemed – she looked out towards the window again, sighing a bit.

“Screw _this_ ,” Barbara mumbled to herself and carefully headed out of the infirmary.

It took her a while to get to her dad’s office, since she had to keep an eye on the guard – though it seemed he had vanished alongside Nashton, probably going outside for a long smoke before his shift would actually start, lucky for Barbara. She used her own copies of Jim’s keys which she had had made a month ago when she had started the whole “private investigation” thing. She preferred to call it that instead of criminal vigilante activities outside the law, which was much more accurate. Inside the office, she was confused for a moment whether she had arrived in the right place. The walls where absolutely empty of every painting, certificate, her dad’s idea board and every other piece of paper or evidence he had on them. Everything was either piled on the desks or put on the ground, and even though it was dark, she could still see there were darker spots on the wall. Approaching one, she could just barely make up remnants of red paint. Someone had just recently tried to scrub it off. Barbara did recall her dad making a phone call about some vandalism at the office but she hadn’t thought he had meant _his_ office. Curious, she carefully took out her phone and used it as a flashlight to – literally – see the bigger picture. A large “A” with a sloppy circle painted partially over it could be distinguished from the mess, which made Barbara smirk a little. A for “Anarchy”. _This looks like something Ivy would do._ But it wasn’t her, she had been locked up in Blackyard for a good while now.

Remembering the task at hand, she put the flashlight away and went for her dad’s computer in the back of the office. She quickly opened it and put in the password: “BRUCE”. She didn’t know who or what “Bruce” was – all she knew is that it was Jim’s password for nearly everything. _At least it’s not “Barbara” anymore._ Cringing, she reminded herself to fight the urge to tell her dad _exactly_ how freaking _stupid_ he had been. For years, before they had even moved out of Gotham, his password had been the oldest cliché in the history of bad passwords. Barbara really did want to keep a small lecture on how incredibly gullible it is to have a simple name as your password – but that would mean him finding out that she knew his password so Barbara reminded herself to keep quiet about it.

“Focus, Babs.”

The Blackgate security footage she had gone through had been really interesting. For the past few weeks she had managed to get all the intel the police had on Black Mask and his operations – which was little to nothing. So, taking matter into her own hands, she wanted to “anonymously help” the GCPD, and so far had managed with just hacking into places from outside – until today. Piggyback-riding a phonecall between two dirty cops, she had found out that there had been a selling of intel between a guard and a prisoner just a few days ago, in broad daylight, at the Blackgate prison yard – and possible footage from that couldn’t be accessed anywhere else than inside Blackgate itself. Enter her teenage pregnancy façade.

There had been some suspicious activity in the footage but the most suspicious part was the guard in question: Barbara didn’t recognize him. The footage was blurry but not _that_ unclear, and she knew nearly everyone who worked there. The prisoner was a mystery too, though something about him seemed familiar. Nevertheless, he was much easier to identify: she just needed access to the GCPD criminal records. Unhackable, of course, at least with her crappy equipment. She didn’t exactly have the money to upgrade her tech and though what she was doing was at the very least questionable, stealing money or tech was out of the question. At moments like these, though, when her dad’s desk computer was running really slow, her conviction made her sigh. Finally, when she got the criminal records open, she connected her phone to the computer and started running facial recognition. Soon, a match was found. And then, another.

There were _two_ matches from the criminal records. Zsasz, Victor and –

“ _Parker, Wiliam_ ,” Barbara mouthed and narrowed her eyes at the screen. “You’re supposed to be pushing daisies, Billy-boy…at least according to your _dead_ son.” She ran facial again, just be sure but there he was: Billy Parker, alive and well, dressed as a guard. She pulled up the files they had on him and examined them with furrowed brows.

“They never found a body,” she exhaled and ran fingers through her bangs. They only had Milo’s confession. Such a little detail that the police had apparently overlooked or didn’t deem important – but Barbara had a feeling it was. The question was: was Billy Parker still working for Black Mask or against him?

“Hello?”

The voice spooked Barbara badly. The guard was back in the building. _Crap. CrapcrapCRAP!_ Her heart racing like hell, she quickly copied the files to her phone and just as she was about to unplug it, the screen went black again, just like before. Her hand froze, her heart rate rising, trying to decide what to do. _What if it_ is _something?_ Two times is a coincidence, three is a pattern… It _could_ be a coincidence – or not.

“Hey! Is someone in there?”

Huffing anxiously, she took a leap of faith and unplugged her phone. Suddenly a sharp noise of glass breaking echoed in the corridor and a loud gunshot spooked her. On an instinct she shut off the computer screen and popped her head up cautiously but saw nothing. She opened her phone to check the time – but the touch screen didn’t work. It was frozen on the files she had downloaded and all of a sudden the screen went black – for good this time. Shivers went down her spine as bright green text started to appear on the screen, letter by letter.

_“HLLO TH?R?”_

Confused and slightly terrified, she simply stared at her phone and had nearly no time to react when multiple guns went off and a loud scream filled the silence. Barbara saw the shadows of three people standing just outside the office, one of them kneeling down. She heard a loud crack as the screaming stopped and the third figure stood up, turning their head towards the office. She immediately ducked and hid under the desk, her heartbeat going faster and faster. The figures were definitely _not_ cops.

“ _COM? OUT COM? OUT WH?R?V?R YOU AR?_ ” her phone screen lit up again. They knew she was here. _Who_ knew she was here, and why? She tried to get her phone to work, to communicate with whoever was taunting her if they could be reached but she was completely blocked. How in the hell –

Barbara closed her eyes, letting out a desperate, shaking sigh. The glitch at the Blackyard, on her phone. Someone _had_ seen her, hacked her phone, and tracked her all the way to the GCPD – no. Not that simple. The glitch had happened just as she had finished a download on both times. They hadn’t hacked anything, not until now. They’d just followed the data signature on her phone, right after she had hacked into Blackyard’s records, which meant the files she had been searching for _were_ crucial to someone…

Barbara felt nauseous. Whose operations had she been digging on for the past few weeks?

Black Mask’s. _Only_ Black Mask’s.

Unable to do anything but blame herself, she let her phone drop the floor, putting her shaking hands over her mouth. She had been sloppy and stupid, and was going to get herself killed for it…or worse. If they found out who she was, or if they already knew…

“ _Dad_ ,” she whimpered so quietly she barely even heard herself. She suddenly truly understood why he hadn’t wanted her back in Gotham, not when he was still the Commissioner. If Black Mask, or whoever was after her, knew who she was, they wouldn’t kill her. They’d _use_ her.

“DON? HIDING Y?T” the phone mocked and she almost kicked it out of frustration and fear for her life, when a voice came out just outside the office:

“The digger’s in there.”

They had found her.

A loud and powerful kick was directed towards the office door but it didn’t give in. Yet. Barbara’s hands were shaking as she tried to rapidly think of a way out. There was none.

Another kick. This time the door cracked a bit.

Closing her eyes, Barbara mouthed an apology to her dad, though knowing she might never get the chance to say it in person.

A final blow and the door went down in a loud thud. Three pairs of footsteps could be heard entering the dark office, slowly, and Barbara held her breath. Silence. A step. Suddenly someone quickly moved the desk underneath which she was hiding, revealing her small figure. Barbara cocked her head up, seeing three men wearing suits and – black skull masks. She felt the color leave her cheeks for good. The thug who had moved the desk grabbed her forcefully by her hoodie as she tried to squirm away, but as the man tried to pull her hood off, she suddenly kneed him to the groin with all her strength. When the thug nearly doubled over at the impact, Barbara regained some of her bravery and just put her over-analytical and panicking brain on hold, and trusted her body and years of gymnastics. She was working on pure adrenaline now. As another thug, a very tall one, lunged at her, she simply ducked and dived between his feet, accidentally making the man trip on the carpet in the office. She made the mistake of turning her head slightly towards the fallen thug with a pleased grin, thinking she might actually survive. A gun was held to her head. Without turning to face the shooter, the teenager just swallowed hard, bracing herself for whatever might come, and still trying to come up with an escape. Still, even when there was no hope left.

“Enigma sends his regards,” the thug snickered.

 _Enigma?_ Barbara narrowed her eyes. _Who the –_

“ _Duck!_ ”

It all happened in mere seconds. Without thinking about it, Barbara dived to the ground and found comfort from the wall, as something was dropped on the office floor with a small clang. Suddenly smoke was all around her and coughing filled the tiny room. She saw shadows move between the smoke and heard the office door close.

“What the hell –“ one of the thugs yelled and seemed to point a gun at the door but an efficient blow came out of the smoke cloud and punched him to the ground. The shadow moved quickly and soon the second thug was down as well. The last one, the one who’s chance to be a parent some day Barbara had compromised, was no-where to be seen or heard. Standing up carefully, she squinted her eyes as the smoke started to clear up, revealing a single figure approaching her. It soon took the form of the last masked thug. Barbara inhaled sharply as she tried to dive back into the smoke but was grabbed by her arm, firm but – gently?

“ _Barbara_ ,” the thug spoke, whispering at her and she froze, her eyes wide, looking at the mask on his face. A pair of eyes could just barely be seen through the holes. Dark brown, sharp eyes that held no aggression or grudge but were full of determination and worry. Worry for her. Snapping out of her trance, she held up a single finger and said:

“One second.” She removed the man’s hand from her arm and he let her, seeming confused. She quickly ran back to the computer and turned the screen back on. Suddenly police sirens could be heard in the distance.

“ _What are you doing?_ ” the man whispered again, and Barbara had to fight the urge to smirk at his voice. Someone clearly tried _really_ hard not to be recognized.

“Just covering my tracks,” she answered with sudden determination, plucking in a memory stick and typing furiously, thought still with shaking hands. “And leaving an _answer_.” Her fear was replaced by anger, as she was furious to Black Mask – _Enigma_ – _whoever_ was unto her. They had been a step ahead without her even knowing about it and it was time for a payback…or at least a little something to slow them down and give her time to get back on her feet, or alternatively, get the hell away from all of this. Barbara Gordon wasn’t a quitter but she wasn’t exactly stupid either. She would be dead, or worse, without her “mystery man”.

She popped up her head at the masked man in question, who stood still watching her at the door, and cocked an eyebrow. “You _are_ helping me out unnoticed, right?”

The man stayed dead silent. Barbara typed in the last commands and removed the memory stick, facing her “savior”.

“I take that as a yes,” she said in a sudden boost of confidence and left the office, the man soon to follow her, towards the basement stairs. Hearing the front door open far behind her, she was grabbed by the arm again as the man pulled her to the shadows.

“ _Here_ ,” he whispered and Barbara followed his lead without a question. The time for those would be later.

 

* * *

 

“Masked thugs? What did the guard say?”

“ _Still unconscious, sir,_ ” a female voice spoke through the phone. Jim Gordon put on his glasses and took his trusty trench coat from the hanger.

“Right,” he sighed, putting the coat on. “I’m on my way. Do _not_ let _anyone_ interrogate him before I get there.”

“ _Copy that, sir._ ” Ending the phone call, Jim ran his fingers through his thin, grey-ish hair and glanced at the door leading to his daughter’s room. Barbara had been awfully quiet ever since John left and she hadn’t come out, not even for her usual late night snack. He knew she was angry with him but something just didn’t feel right.

Officer Yinn had spoke of a break-in in his office – and his computer breached.

“Barbara?” he called out, getting only silence in return, which made him even more wary. “Barbara, sweetheart?” He approached the door slowly, and finally pressed his ear to it. Nothing. Jim felt his stomach turn upside down.

“Barbara –“

The old man nearly hit his head as the door was opened quickly. His daughter stood before him, in her pyjamas, wearing a death glare to which he was more than used to now.

“ _What?_ ” she asked gritting her teeth like an animal ready to attack. Jim felt a sting in his heart, both from relief and guilt for even considering… He sighed in defeat.

“You were already asleep, I’m –“

“No shit, dad, _really?_ ”

Jim froze in the spot for a moment, a small, unnoticed smile creeping on his lips.

“Yeah, sorry,” his daughter said in a hoarse voice. “Language, I know.”

“No, no, it’s – “ the man muttered, clearing his throat. “It’s alright, sweetie. I just thought I’d tell you – I’m going to have to visit the station.”

“Now?” Barbara yawned. “Jeez, I know you’re the Commish and all but it’s the middle of the night.”

“All the more reason for me to be there.”

“It’s nothing too serious, is it?” she asked, and rubbed her arms, sounding worried and curious, as she always was about his job. He was going to answer something between the lines of “no, of course not” but that would’ve been lying. And Jim didn’t want to lie to Barbara, not anymore. His lies had been the very thing that had divided them in the first place. Of course he couldn’t share every single detail with Barbara, that was obvious, to protect her but he didn’t want to tell her that everything was going to be ok when it might not be. Memories of a burned face of a former friend and an old, dirty lie suddenly came clearly to his mind but Jim quickly pushed them back. He was _not_ relieving old cases.

“Let me worry about that, ok?” Jim said with a smile and put a loving hand over his daughter’s shoulder. Rubbing her eyes, sleepy and a bit cranky, she reminded him so much of the little girl back before everything had gone wrong for their family. _Not completely,_ he reminded himself. “Just go back to sleep, sweetie.”

“Yeah, ok,” Barbara muttered and turned to close the door. “Have fun or something.”

As she heard the front door open and close, with silence following it, Barbara let out a long, deep sigh and fell to her bed. She had performed what had probably been the world’s quickest change of clothes, and was damn proud of herself. Her dad had always warned her about not getting in the cars of strange men but when someone saves your life you kind of forget the “strange” part of it all. Besides, it had been a motorcycle and not a car. Good thing her dad had mistaken the wind-blown nest that was her hair as just regular bed-hair.

She hadn’t faked the yawns, though. She was dead tired and felt like she could sleep for a week – if it weren’t for the fact that this had probably been the most exciting day in her whole life so far. She could barely breath right, thinking about it all. Feelings of both excitement and horror swept through her simultaneously as she tried to consider her next move. She was safe, for now – but did she necessary want to stay that way? Eyeing her phone on her desk suspiciously, Barbara rose up from the bed and walked over to her slightly open window. The masked man was long gone by now with his motorcycle.

“Of course,” Barbara breathed out in realization. “ _The bike_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been really busy for the past weeks - uhm, months, so updating has been difficult. However, I'm trying to get the next one out during the Winter holidays so stay tuned! It's only gets crazier from here...


	5. Chapter 5

The air smelled of rust and blood as Mike struggled to stand up on his own. He would’ve leaned on the elevator walls but the old thing sounded like it was going to break any minute. To be honest, Mike probably wouldn’t mind if it did and ended him for good. Anything would be better right now than going face to face with the big man.

“Move up!” the other man spit out and took a gun from under his suit jacket, poking Mike with it, as they exited the elevator in the top floor.

“Alright, Jesus, Bobby! You don’t have t –“

Bobby kicked him hard on his back and he fell down. Mike couldn’t believe it, they had been joking with each other just the other day and now he was treating him like scum. Ok, he was scum but so was Bobby. They were all scum under those damn masks.

“That’s enough,” a low voice boomed in the other side of the room. A tall, intimating figure was standing in front of a wall full of windows, some cracked, some completely missing glass.  _No one would hear a man scream here – or care even if they did_ , Mike found himself thinking out of habit but swallowed hard when he saw the two bodies lying on the floor – both in black suits like him, and both with broken masks and a bloody crowbar next to them. Mike hadn’t heard _them_ scream. He knew what was coming.

“On second thought,” the figure, masked like all of them but no scum, turned to face Mike. He took steps forward, putting his hand out as he did, and was handed a burning cigarette by one of the thugs next to him. “It’s important to enjoy the time you’re given, right?”

Bobby yanked Mike’s head up high and removed his mask by force. Closing in, the masked man in the three-piece white striped suit loomed over him and his shadow felt cold on Mike’s red hot face. He knew what was coming. The man kneeled down to his level with the burning cigarette in his black leather-gloved hand. Mike could feel his heavy breathing from behind the skull mask and swallowed hard. The man tapped Mike’s face with the other hand gently, making his cheeks wobble, chuckling as he did.

“And I sure am gonna enjoy _this_.”

He lifted the cigarette to Mike’s eye level.

“Boss, I –“

“Shut it!” the man growled and grabbed Mike’s chin forcefully with his free hand. “There were 2 other chickens down here who I’ve already bled dry of every single bit of information you might possible have.”

The bright color on his cheeks, caused by the beating he had gotten just a couple of hours ago, was drained from his face. Now, he _really_ knew what was coming.

“You’re here because I need to blow some steam off,” he said with a tilt of his head and pushed the cigarette into Mike’s wobbly cheek, making the shocked man scream. “You see, I had three men sent into the GCPD to catch _one_ hacker. Three men, two of which apparently had trouble keeping a headcount.”

Mike screams only got louder as the man grabbed him by the neck and twisted the cigarette deeper into his skin. It was going out eventually but not before going through. “They both told me there was a fourth man but the thing is, as I said, I only sent three – who, _as I said_ , only had one. _Single. HACKER. TO DEAL WITH!_ ” He yanked the cigarette from Mike’s badly burned skin and sighed loudly with satisfaction and a cruel laugh as he rose up from the ground.

“Do you see why I’m – _unhappy_?”

Smoke was in Mike’s eyes as he teared up and his mouth tasted like blood – an all too familiar taste at that.

“M-maybe – E-E- _Enigma_ –“

Black Mask suddenly grabbed unto Mike’s head, and twisting it with force, broke his neck in a flash of hot rage. A small streak of blood from Mike’s mouth landed on his shiny black shoes. He let the limp body fall to the ground and stepped on the cigarette stump he had thrown away before killing the man, rubbing it to the ground with his shoe. Cocking his head, he looked down at the dead man and then his shoes.

“These were brand new,” he sighed and after waiting a while, kicked the body aggressively. Taking a step back, he rushed in and kicked it again. And again. And again. Huffing only once in frustration, Black Mask finally stopped and stood completely still. His voice was but a low murmur as he growled at his men:

“Call the Iceberg Lounge. I got some complaints about the _service_."

The masked thugs looked at each other and then the bloody body lying at their boss’ feet. The man himself only chuckled darkly before walking over it towards the elevator.

“I’m just getting warmed up, boys,” Black Mask murmured under his breath.

* * *

“I’m sorry, Jim,” John Blake said to the phone, simultaneously putting his coat on. “Trust me, I’d love to help but I can’t. I left the life for a reason.”

“Yeah, I understand,” an old man at the other end of the line answered with a sigh. He was standing – literally – in a pile of trouble at the crime scene which also happened to be his office. Officer Cash, who had by some miracle survived the attack, had been questioned and dealt with and now Jim was waiting for Edward Nashton to show up. According to Cash, Nashton had been the only person he had seen in the building that night and though he had apparently left before the events occurred, they needed to question him about anything suspicious. Jim wanted to be the one to do that though usually he avoided talking to the annoying man at all costs.

“But I need your insight on this,” Jim persisted. “I’m not asking you to put the badge back on. You could still work for the Foundation and also be an advisor for –“

“I said no,” John blatantly interrupted the older man. “I – I have to strict about this. No more police work.”

“What about yesterday? I saw that glimmer in your eye when I showed you the case, you know,” Jim said, stepping to his broken computer with his brows furrowed behind his eyes. “Determination. Passion. The system is broken and corrupted but you never gave up on it and still haven’t, I know it.”

“Yesterday was – I tried to be polite, Jim,” John made his way out of his small apartment downtown. “We hadn’t seen each other in almost a year and I knew you would try to get me back. I appreciate what you think of me but that’s not who I am anymore. I made a promise and I plan on keeping it. I’m sorry.” Before Jim could argue back anymore, John ended the call which he did feel bad for. But he had no choice: he felt as if he had already “tricked” Jim into sharing his intel about Black Mask with John and wouldn’t do it again. The only reason John would ever ask Jim’s help again was if he was going to be completely honest with the old man – and that day would have to wait.

Riding his motorcycle through the streets, heading for the Manor, John thought about last night and how lucky both he and Barbara had been. He had carried around the black mask he had acquired from a thug last week, just in case, and had noticed her sneaking out in accident. And Barbara had been beyond lucky that he had – she would be dead or worse right now without him. But that was exactly what bothered him. John had heard from Jim how smart his daughter was but breaking and entering, hacking, getting so close to Black Mask that he sends three of his masked men for her – that girl had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

As he arrived at the front yard of the Manor, he noticed a bright red bicycle leaning on the wall.

“Speaking of the devil…” John mused to himself, feeling a bit wary, as he went in.

The Manor was quiet as all the kids were at school – or skipping school somewhere else, as usual. Without them, the often re-build huge building seemed eerie but had pleasant silence to it as well. The cave, however empty, wasn’t silent at all – the water stream roaring beneath your feet and the occasional cracking of rock as the cave’s original inhabitants, the bats, moved in the darkness, screeching slightly as they did. Sometimes when he was down there, John couldn’t bare the noises for some reason and listened to a lot loud music with his headphones on. It kept him company. But in the Manor, during the silent days, he relished the loneliness – or at least that’s what he told himself.

As expected, Barbara was already waiting for him in his office or the small room besides the library where the kids sometimes came to talk to him about their problems.

“Hi, John,” she greeted him. “I uhm – came to talk about the job?”

“Yeah, of course. Please, sit down,” he offered and took a seat himself.

“I would’ve called first but, uh – I didn’t have your number,” she chuckled. “And my phone broke.”

“Oh,” John simply stated, feeling a little twitch in his stomach.

“Yeah, but all the more reason I need a job,” she waved her hand carelessly. “To buy a new one. And, you know, ‘cause I want to help around here.”

“Well, I’m sure you can do just that,” John smiled and took out a notebook. “We would actually need help in the library –“

“Did I hear you coming in on a motorcycle?” Barbara suddenly said, changing the subject completely. “The same one you came by our apartment yesterday?”

John felt that twitch again, stronger, and sighed loudly. Barbara wasn’t exactly being discreet. He stood up and walked around the desk, leaning into it with his hands crossed over his chest. Speaking in a slightly hushed voice, he asked:

“Why are you here, Barbara?”

“For the job,” she repeated and rose up herself. “But – not in the library.”

Now John was genuinely confused. He opened his mouth to speak:

“I’m not sure what you –“

Barbara suddenly leaned in, taking him by his arm and spoke in a whisper:

“I know, John. And I want in.”

“No,” John imidiately answered and walked away from her. Jim would never forgive him.

“I’m already in it too deep and you know it,” she argued and he knew she was right. He knew. “So I’m not gonna stop and I know you won’t either. I’m assuming this wasn’t your first time doing – whatever that was back there.”

“Barbara,” John said, his back turned to the young redhead. “You can still walk away. They didn’t find out who you were.”

“Thanks to you,” she chimed in, putting her hands on her hips. “But they don’t know who you are either and you still plan on continuing to pursuit them, right?”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Yes, it is!” she raised her voice and John finally turned around, closing in on her. Barbara took a step back and looked him into the same eyes as last night at the GCPD. He had the same look in his eyes.

“They know _about_  you and about me too,” Barbara said, determined. "Were both already in on this, whether you like it or not."

John furrowed his brows at the teenage girl. She was a child. Jim would never, _ever_ forgive him.

“What did you mean by giving them an – ‘ _answer_ ’?”

Barbara clenched her teeth together, unsure what to tell the young man.

“It would be easier to show you.”

John was at a dead end. With Barbara – and with the investigation. True, she was just a child – but she was also a genius. She could work the computer at the cave much better than he ever could. He couldn’t deny that. Jim would never forgive him for what he was going to do but he would _kill_ him if he let Barbara go about this on her own – because that’s what she would definitely do. She had made her decision and wouldn’t stop just because he refused to help her. Barbara was young, didn’t completely know what she was getting into and he knew it – but there was that _fire_. The same fire both Jim and Bruce had first seen in John.

“Follow me,” he whispered and left the office, with Barbara quickly on his heels. She felt a tingle in her chest and her hands were shaking as she followed John out of the Manor. They walked to another building next to the Manor, built after the fire over a decade ago when Bruce Wayne had still called the Manor home. It was a warehouse, a big one and Barbara almost chuckled to herself. _Well that isn’t obvious at all._ He took her in, through the whole building and towards a – closet. With a hidden door inside.

“No way,” Barbara let out as a laugh, looking at John in disbelief. He only furrowed his brows at this.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she tried to hold a laugh. “No, you’re really taking this – ‘vigilante’ thing quite seriously.”

“No, not me,” John sighed and stepped into an elevator hidden on the other side of the door. Barbara’s smile fainted slightly as she was confused with his words.

“What do you mean?” she asked as the elevator started going down and darkness fell all around them. She couldn’t see his face but she could tell even by the mere atmosphere that he was – uncertain about his answer. Like he didn’t even know himself what he was doing and why he was doing it.

“John?” she asked, uncertain. Suddenly the elevator door opened and bright lights almost blinded her. A stone corridor opened up before them and she could hear water streaming somewhere close. The ground was vibrating as it did. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden lights and following John out of the elevator, she saw something in the corner of her eyes. A pair of small gleaming eyes and a screeching sound as something flew past her. She let out a small yelp and docked.

“Watch out for the bats,” John said to her from the other end of the corridor. “They get really aggressive sometimes, protecting this place.”

“ _Bats_?” Barbara let out, her mind furiously making connections. Suddenly she straightened her back and looked at John with her mouth hanging slightly open, and saw what opened behind him. A dark cave and an underground lake, with a large platform on it. In the middle of the platform, there were several computer screens, and next to it a glass box that had some kind of body armor displayed inside. She took steps closer and as she did, the armor started take a clearer shape. Barbara couldn’t believe her eyes and a small smirk appeared on John’s lips at her reaction.

“That’s – “ she breathed out and shifted her eyes from the displayed body armor to the man next to it. Shivers went down her spine. “ _You’re_ –“

“No, I’m not,” John quickly responded with a laugh, though saying those words actually made him even more unsure about everything.

“But you _knew_ him?” Barbara’s hands were shaking. The whole situation felt unreal. “You knew who he was?”

“I – ,” John began but swallowed hard before continuing. He wasn’t sure if he should – “

“ _Bruce Wayne_ , of course!” Barbara suddenly let out and laughed. John was just shocked of how quick she was with her deductions. “Of course he had to be rich as hell to get all the equipment! And to keep it a secret.”

“The manor gave it away, huh?”

“ _And_ he was reported ‘missing’ during Bane’s Gotham and never came back, so it makes sense. Also, my dad’s password to basically everything is ‘ _Bruce_ ’ – so he knew as well, huh?” she crossed her arms, finally taking in the cave as she walked towards the platform.

“He found out the same way I did,” John admitted, following Barbara. “Just before he saved us all by sacrificing himself.”

“So he really is gone, then,” Barbara let out as a sigh, looking at the impressive body armor with an outline of a bat in its chest. John noted she sounded almost disappointed. Silence fell between the two as they stood staring at each other, with only the water roaming beneath them. John was just about to open his mouth to speak but Barbara’s tongue was quicker.

“Are you taking over him?” she suddenly asked and made her way to the computer screens. “I mean, did you just – find his secret hideout or did he leave it to you?”

John was taking off guard by her on-point questions. He didn’t answer for a good while since he didn’t even know the correct answers himself

“I don’t know,” he finally sighed, sounding slightly frustrated and walked towards the glass box. The armor inside loomed over him and seemed to stare him down in a way. He had never opened the glass, never even touched the thing. It felt too sacred in a way, like it wasn’t even meant to be worn by just anyone. “He did want me to find it, I suppose. He left me the keys to this place and everything in here but no instructions. Did he want to me to destroy it? Use it?” John ruffed his short black hair and turned away from glass. “It seems like the Bruce Wayne the public knew was just an act. He was trained, and a genius and _clearly_ had some kind of crusade that led him to become Batman.”

“You don’t know what it was?”

“He didn’t exactly leave a memo,” John let out a small laugh and walked over to Barbara. “I’ve assumed he had left me the choice of doing what I want with his – ‘ _legacy_ ’ or whatever this is.”

“Ok,” she said with a curious look and pointed at the keyboard. “Wanna show me what you’ve been up to, then? I’ll share my intel if you share yours.”

“Didn’t your phone break?”

“Well, I’ve actually doing this longer than that so I have more than what I lost last night,” she grinned and relishing in John’s baffled look, took an USB stick from her pocket. “A nasty virus destroyed that data and I wouldn’t even dare to touch my phone again trying to recover it.”

John nodded and hesitated a while before activating the computer screens. He pressed his thumb on a scanner next to them and typed in the password which he sealed from Barbara’s view much to her disappointment.

“I want to make one thing clear, Barbara,” he said and looked her firmly in the eyes. “You’re here to help your father catch Black Mask, correct?”

“Yes,” Barbara said with a raised brow. So John had deduced the same thing: Jim Gordon blamed for the mess that Bane caused and by default, everything what followed. The riots, the rise of the new mob bosses – that it was all his fault. But Barbara had seen the same thing John had – that Black Mask, the biggest threat of them all, _used_ the law to do his bidding so he couldn’t be brought down _by_ the law. It had to be done outside it.

“Yes,” John agreed. “So once we’ve done everything we can to help your dad and the police…“

Barbara had a hunch at where John was going at. That had been her plan from the very beginning but seeing the cave, learning about Batman himself – she wasn’t so sure anymore. Nevertheless, it would have to do for now.

“We’re done,” she finished his sentence with a nod. “I get it. But John, all of this, it’s –“

“We’ll use the cave as much and as long as we have to,” John stated bluntly and his hands turned into fists. “But once we’re done, so is Batman.”

Barbara looked around the cave with a thoughtful look on her face.

“Well, it’s your call,” she sighed and plucked the USB stick in. “Now, what do you have on Billy and Milo Parker?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing our villain, and creating heroes. Some real action coming up in the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

“Barbara?” Jim Gordon called out his daughter after opening their apartment door, hands shaking and barely able to hold a smile. He still couldn’t believe what had happened. The place they lived in wasn’t the reason, though: it wasn’t much but considering it was the Narrows after all, it was as good as crappy apartments came. Besides, Barbara seemed to like it and that was more than enough for Jim. Money was tight everywhere and good apartments at decent neighborhoods weren’t exactly available even though it had been over a year since Bane’s Gotham. During that time there was no such thing as a good neighborhood anyway.

“Sweetheart, you home?” he asked. Of course she was home, that was the deal. She was grounded after all – straight home from school, no trips to Blackgate or any detours. Jim dreaded the coming day Pamela Isley would be released from custody and Barbara would beg him to let her see her.

Jim eyed the kitchen sink still filled with last night’s dishes and then noticed his daughter’s room door was slightly open and his heart sunk. She _never_ kept it open when she was home. Rushing in, he took in the messy, dark room. Barbara hadn’t made her bed or even cleaned up her desk which was full of schoolwork and – Jim picked one of the papers – timetables? Shifts? He recognized the names on the file and his worry turned into anger and disappointment. Blackgate prison guards.

“Oh, Babs,” he sighed defeated and rubbed his eyes with his free hand under his glasses. Jim wasn’t even sure if he wanted to know how his daughter had gotten her hands on this kind of information – no doubt to try to visit Isley the other day so that Jim wouldn’t find out. She apparently knew which guards were a bit sloppy when it came to recording visitors as well as he did. The lengths she was willing to go to keep it a secret from him – it worried him, both as a father _and_ a Commissioner. Frustrated, he took his phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed in Barbara’s number. If she didn’t answer, he would head out straight to Blackgate. _Again_.

“Homeschooling sounds good as well,” the old man mumbled to himself.

A dial went off – and so did a phone. Vibrations came from the un-made bed, under a blanket. Jim proceeded to lift it and there was her daughter’s bright red phone. He tapped the black touchscreen but it didn’t respond, yet the phone kept vibrating, until he hang up. Jim furrowed his brows. Barbara never went _anywhere_ without her phone, she was a child of modern technology after all. Jim felt a sting in his heart. Something was _very_ wrong.

He rushed out of her daughter’s room and through the front door again, dialing a new number.

“Ramirez, it’s me,” he spoke to the phone as he closed the door and headed down the staircase. “I want you to head straight to Blackgate prison, I’ll –“

Jim went silent.

“ _Sir?_ ” Ramirez asked in the other end. “ _Sir, are you there? What’s happening at Blackgate? Sir?_ ”

The petite red-head smiled at her father briefly as she brushed past him at the staircase, wawing her hand as a hello. She took off her hoodie and chuckled at Jim’s baffled look.

“ _Sir, can you hear me?_ ”

“Uh, yes, yes I can,” Jim sighed to the phone. “False alarm, Ramirez. I’ll, uhm, see you tomorrow.” He hang up without waiting for an answer and turned to follow Barbara.

“And where have you been?” he questioned harshly as they entered the small apartment. “School ended several hours ago.”

“Yeah, I know I was _suppose_ to head home straight away but I thought I’d stop by at the Wayne Manor,” the teenager explained, surprising her dad. “You know, for the summer job? Which I got, by the way.”

“Oh,” Jim let out, baffled. He had thought they might go visit the Manor together, and maybe he could still try persuading John to help him. The fact that she was beginning to be even more independent than he had ever thought made him feel proud, yet brought a lump to his throat. “That’s – that’s great, honey. I’m very proud of you.”

Barbara dropped her backpack at a dining chair and turned around to look at Jim with a knowing look, crossing her arms.

“You thought I was at Blackgate again, huh?” she fired at her dad who just put his hands on his hips and sighed:

“Well, you _have_ given me a reason to worry recently – like the schedules on your desk?”

Barbara went silent as her face dropped, and she shifted uneasily.

“So you’re going through my personal things nowadays? That’s how much you trust me?”

“Don’t try to put this on me,” Jim pointed a steady finger at her. “The information you got there? It is _not_ open for public, and I dare to think what you’ve done to get it. If you’re doing something illegal again, and for Isley – “

“I’ve done nothing but visit my friend, dad,” Barbara clenched her teeth together as she got more nervous. “And yes, I’ve used some...  _questionable methods_ of keeping it a secret from you but only because I know how you’d react, and how if affects your job when you constantly worry about me.”

Her words shut Jim completely down. Barbara stared at him with fire in her eyes, determination and strength. Jim sighed at the sight. He constantly forgot her true nature, and no matter how much he wanted to keep her safe, she would always find a loophole to defy him. Out of her own will or habit, Jim wasn’t sure.

“And I don’t even do that anymore, ok?” she said, lowering her voice and grabbed her backpack, heading for her room. “Not since you caught me there last time.”

“I uh, also noticed your phone is broken,” Jim calmly stated, stopping her. “We should get you a new one. It’s not safe to go around without a phone these days.”

The young red-head turned her head only slightly towards Jim, who was just standing still, watching his daughter age in mere seconds again.

“Thanks, dad,” she muttered and was about to enter her room, when Jim remembered the reason he had rushed home. His face lit up in mere seconds and Barbara looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “You okay?”

“More than okay, actually,” Jim sighed happily. “I… can’t tell you any details, obviously, but we just made a big breakthrough at the office today.”

“Does it have something to do with the, uh, whatever happened last night?” Barbara stuttered, curious. Had someone left something in his office – had _she_?

“Well, not per se but, “ Jim said, but stopped. _Damn_ , Barbara thought to herself. Of course he wouldn’t tell her anything crucial. “Let’s just say it’s progress. Anyway, I though I’d take you out for a dinner,” Jim explained, with Barbara still hung up on his previous words. “And since you got a summer job, well, all the more reason to celebrate.”

“What happened to ‘ _you’re grounded, young lady’_ ,” the teenage girl put a finger over her upper lip as a moustache and mimicked his dad’s voice surprisingly good. “Sorry.”

“I think it’s ok, you’ll be under police surveillance, after all,” her dad chuckled. Barbara bit her lip, intrigued. God, how she just wanted to _ask_ him. She knew she couldn’t but she sure wanted to.

“Only if you tell me what made you so happy,” she boldly said, crossing her arms. “You’ve had a hard time lately, and I want to know who or what to thank for making you smile.” _Cheesy_ , she thought to herself, grimacing a bit at her own words. She did mean them, though there was an alternative motive.

Jim Gordon sighed at her.

“An anonymous tip that gave us some much needed evidence,” Jim said with a smile, and Barbara suddenly had a hard time keeping hers up.

_Oh, no._

“Concerning…?” she asked while trying not to sound too nosy. Or freaked out.

“ _Not_ you, young lady,” her dad chuckled. “Sorry.”

_Crap._

“Ok, ok,” she let out with a laugh, though inside she was screaming. “Let me just get change before leaving. Oh, and can I borrow your phone? I need to call John, I think I left something at the Manor.”

“Sure thing,” Jim said, giving Barbara his phone. She took it smiling and before Jim could say anything, rushed into her room and closed the door. She dialed John’s number quicker than she could curse his name.

“Jim,” the young man picked up. “If this is another attempt to –“

“ _John, what the hell?!_ ” she aggressively whispered into the phone. The other line fell completely silent. “You –“ she lowered her voice even more to make sure her father couldn’t hear a word. “You _promised_ me!”

“Barbara – “

“You _lied_ to me!”

“Yes, I did,” a quiet, stern voice spoke through the phone. Barbara’s shoulders dropped as she sat on the bed, baffled. It had taken her, both of them, hours but they had managed to find the locations of not one, not two but five of Black Mask’s drug stashes – three of them being in Sionis’ Steel facilities all over town, giving at least some much needed evidence against Roman Sionis, one of the main suspects to actually be Black Mask.

However, John and Barbara had agreed that tipping the police about the stashes would be a bad move, seeing that Black Mask had eyes and ears even in the GCPD. He’d probably manage to clean up the places before Jim Gordon or anyone could even get close them, and even if the police managed to find one or two of the stashes, there might not even be enough to press charges against Sionis in the first place. And even if there was, guilty or not, it wouldn’t be enough to even get him into a courtroom. They’d need more… but now John had thrown it all down the drain by going to the police behind her back.

“Look, it’s not safe to talk about this over phone,” John sighed, sounding a tiny bit condescending, which made Barbara tense up and furrow her brows. He was talking to her like schooling a little kid. Like Jim did. “Come by the Manor tomorrow and we’ll talk things over in private.”

“Fine,” she gritted through her teeth. “I’ll come get my stuff, unless you gave it up as well…”

“I didn’t,” the answer made Barbara tiny bit less angry, though he could be lying. Again. “You found out all that intel on your own, and I respect that. You can do whatever you want with it… but I think it’d be safer for you if –“

“I don’t care what you think,” she interrupted. “We’re _done_.”

Hanging up the phone, Barbara let her body drop on the bed, still in disbelief John had double-crossed her. And here she had thought he had actually taken her seriously, trusted her… but all he saw was what her father saw: a moody teenage girl, not knowing what she’s getting into. John probably didn’t even believe her about Billy Parker being alive, since she had lost that footage to “Enigma”, whose role and importance in everything was still, well, an enigma. Besides, the way John had just shrugged the whole Parker situation off indicated that he didn’t even think it could be crucial to solving the case.

 _Joke’s on him_ , Barbara almost chuckled to herself as the other corner of her mouth twitched upwards. They might be done, but there was no way in hell _she_ was done. State-of-the-art tech or not, she had something John didn’t. Photographic memory and a scholarship with her name on it to any college of her choosing, yes, but also a _tiny_ bit of intel that she had kept from John, just in case one of them might get caught or worse (which had not included deceiving the other before now).

“Barbara, sweetie?” Jim knocked on her door before opening it, and Barbara jolted upwards from the bed. “Is, uh… is everything okay with John? You sounded a little shaken.”

Barbara felt a shiver down her spine as she sat on the bed, staring at her father. Of course Jim had had his ear pressed against her door, _of course_. She couldn’t stop thinking how much he had heard, if anything.

“How much did you hear?” she came forward with it, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear, deciding to play along, not denying her frustration with John. It wasn’t like she had actually spilled any names or important details of what she was actually doing with him. Jim seemed a bit embarrassed that he had been eavesdropping, and put his hands in his jack pockets, sighing.

“Just the end of it,” he confessed, and Barbara could tell he wasn’t lying to her. “You said you were “done”… You meant with the job?”

“Yeah, it uhm… it didn’t work out,” she shrugged, actually feeling disappointed at John, and stood up, crossing her arms over her chest, and quickly figured out a believable lie to fit her whole conversation with John. “Turns out they can’t pay me after all, even though John promised me they would. And the whole reason I wanted a job was money, so…”

“Oh,” Jim said. He didn’t sound completely convinced by her story but didn’t oblige. Barbara had never cared for money that much, and definitely not enough to get angry at someone who was only trying to help her out, and Jim knew that.

“Because… I know we’re a bit tight on money right now,” she continued, looking down a bit, as if embarrassed. Well, she wasn’t lying, exactly. “And I don’t want to have to use yours.”

“For the phone,” Jim sighed, realizing what she was going for and took a step forward, putting a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. “Look, sweetie, don’t worry about that, okay?”

“But I know you’ve been putting money aside for a better apartment for a while now, to get away from the Narrows,” she argued, and smiled a bit at her dad’s surprised look. “I do listen when you talk to me, y'knoa. You’ve been mentioning it ever since I had that incident with Ivy and that maniac with a –”

Suddenly her smile dropped as she looked into the distance, an image flashing before her eyes. A man’s face, from both right in front of her, and from a blurry computer image. Connecting the dots, she realized she had indeed seen the prisoner that had been handed something by Billy Parker in the footage she had digged up before.

Victor Zsasz. The name hadn’t ringed a bell, but his face had been vaguely familiar. The bald man from the alley with a knife, the man she had hit with her bike, saving Ivy from him a few months back. The very incident that had sent him to Blackgate… where Billy Parker had exchanged intel with him, most likely regarding Black Mask. Barbara’s brain was going through millions of thoughts in mere seconds, trying to figure out if there was any importance in her realization, when she was woken up from her trance by two gentle hands on both of her shoulders.

“Barbara,” Jim said a little louder, looking at his daughter confused and worried at the same time. “Are – are you sure you’re okay?” He pulled some of her red hair behind her ear, making Barbara blink fast, a little baffled.

“Yeah, yeah, I just – got lost into a thought just now…” was all she managed to mumble, trying to ignore a hunch she had boiling up inside of her. Sighing, she massaged her temple with her other hand and shifted her footing. “Look, Jim…”

Jim Gordon tensed up a bit as she called him by his name again.

“I’m actually really tired right now,” she lied. “And have this chemistry assignment I have to finish, so… could we –“

“We can go out tomorrow,” Jim smiled, but was clearly disappointed, and worried, as he squeezed her shoulders gently before letting go of her. “There’s leftovers in fridge."

“I was craving for fried rice, anyway,” Barbara flashed another smile as the two made their way to the living room. The dinner was quick, and silent, and Barbara just saying she was tired and was probably going to sleep the minute she’d finish her chemistry assignment. She was acting exactly like she knew she had to for Jim to leave her be for the night.

After all, how could she sneak out to check out Black Mask’s sixth drug stash location she had hid from John if her dad wouldn’t stop bugging her? But before Barbara could head there, she had one more place to stop by…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... so... a year and a half. Time flies, huh? Let's just say personal issues. I am not, however, done with this story yet, and will try to update the next chapter sooner than this. A lot sooner. Looks like Barbara's up to something illegal again... and she might run into some nasty characters.


End file.
